


Remembering

by Lefaym



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: M/M, Merry Month of Masturbation Challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-21
Updated: 2010-05-21
Packaged: 2017-10-09 15:15:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/88771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lefaym/pseuds/Lefaym
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes Remus can't help but remember the way things were.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Remembering

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Fera Festiva for the beta.

Most of the time, Remus tried not to think about the way things could have been; dwelling on the past did him little good, and the passage of the years had done nothing to ease the sharp twist he felt in his gut whenever he thought of Sirius. It was always hardest when he was trying to sleep, but as time passed, Remus learned to manage.

Still, some nights were harder than others.

As Remus hurried back to the tiny attic he rented from a witch who was willing to tolerate his condition, he knew that this wasn't going to be one of the easy nights. He'd seen them that morning—the two young men stumbling home as everyone else made their way to work for the day. They'd looked at each other for a moment, and their hands had touched, so quickly that Remus doubted anyone else had noticed.

_That was us, once_.

He'd managed well enough while he was at work, filing ancient records for an old goblin who didn't care about what happened to his employees at the full moon. The work was dull, but it required his full attention, and Remus was grateful for it. On the way home though, in the grey drizzle that had been hanging over London for a week now, Remus couldn't stop himself from remembering; he couldn't help but see a bit of Sirius in every black-haired youth who passed him on the street, and he couldn't help but wonder what Sirius might be thinking now, if he had any coherent thoughts left to him after so many years in the presence of Dementors.

Remus tried to tell himself that Sirius deserved it, after all that he'd done; James, Lily, Peter... yet, in spite of it all, Remus found himself thinking of the time that he and Sirius had made their way home in the early morning, after an all-night stake-out for the Order. They'd been just about ready to drop on their feet, but they'd grinned at each other anyway. They'd been happy, Remus thought—well, Remus had been happy, anyway. Who knew what Sirius had been hiding behind that easy, charming grin?

Remus shivered as he let himself into the house and made his way up the back stairs to his room. He retrieved his wand from inside his jacket and performed a small heating charm, but even that didn't seem to dislodge the chill entirely. With a sigh, Remus pulled a blanket from his bed, lit the lamp on his desk, and picked up the book he'd been reading the night before. He could try, at least, to lose himself in an essay on the latest developments in defensive hexes.

Before long, however, the words and diagrams began to swim in front of Remus's eyes; when he realised he'd read the same line five times and still had no idea what it had said, he knew that it was hopeless. Giving in, Remus let his eyelids close, and he didn't even fight it when the image of himself and Sirius, on that morning long ago, returned to his mind. He remembered the way that they'd returned to the flat that James had rented for all of them, and found themselves alone—James was with Lily no doubt, and Peter—well, they'd had no idea where Peter had got to.

It hadn't mattered, either, where anyone was; not when they fell into bed together and discovered, all of a sudden, that they weren't as tired as they'd believed themselves to be. Remus remembered the way that Sirius had rolled on top of him, pinning his hands above his head as they kissed, their mouths hot against each other. He remembered the way he'd pulled at Sirius's Muggle clothing; that tight black T-shirt and those ridiculous flared trousers that had seemed so daring at the time.

Absently, Remus slipped his hand inside his robes; it was only when he felt his cold palm against the length of his half-erect cock that he opened his eyes with a gasp that was half shock, and half pleasure.

_I shouldn't do this_.

Already, though, Remus's fingers were closing around his shaft. He tried, for a moment, to imagine someone else there; one of the men from the _Tomorrow's Wizard_ catalogue, or that fellow he'd carried on with for a few months a while back, but it was no good—their faces always melted away and became Sirius; Sirius was the only one who stayed.

Remus recalled the way they'd moved together, cocks held tight against each other, free hands exploring skin, pulling on hair. He remembered how they'd laughed, because they'd made it through another night alive (well, that was why Remus had laughed, anyway). Sirius had traced the scars on Remus's chest as though they were beautiful things, and Remus had savoured every touch; he still savoured it, even now, after everything.

Remus quickened the pace of his hand on his cock as he felt his orgasm approaching. Part of him, a bigger part than he wanted to admit to himself, wished he was back there, he wished he didn't know about what Sirius had done, wished he'd never needed to know. He just wanted him—then, now, forever.

A strangled yell—almost a sob—escaped Remus's lips as he came, the past and the present merging together in a single moment. He slumped back in his chair, breathing heavily, but not moving otherwise.

_I still love you_.

Remus shook his head as though he could dislodge the thought. He'd never known Sirius Black, he reminded himself. The man he'd loved had been nothing more than a fantasy. Remus forced himself to stand, performing a cleaning charm and righting his robes as he did so. A walk, he decided. Never mind the darkness, the cold and the drizzle; he couldn't stay here with his thoughts.

As he pulled his cloak around himself and stepped out of the house, Remus tried to forgive himself for his lapse. He walked into the rain as though it could wash him clean. Behind him, he left the image of two young men, tangled together in a sticky embrace as they drifted into an exhausted sleep.


End file.
